


Dreaming Waits

by perryvic, Zaganthi (Caffiends)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cthulhu Mythos, Kink Bingo 2013, M/M, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 00:27:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perryvic/pseuds/perryvic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiends/pseuds/Zaganthi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seb flung an arm over his shoulder, holding him close and panting, half-sitting up as he held on to John, with Sherlock kneeling behind them both, his tentacles still clinging.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreaming Waits

**Author's Note:**

> Part of a still to be posted Cthulhu verse.

A nice cup of tea. John sat down, inhaling in the steam of the fresh cup and relaxed. He didn't give a shit what Sherlock was up to, just that he better not be at one of the bloody Temples again. It wasn't good for him, even if his Old Blood was exerting pressure even on his control. No, he'd had enough of their intrigues and the mess Sherlock managed to get them wrapped up in. He had his cup of tea, and he was considering indulging in a chocolate biscuit.

It had been a bloody harrowing week, Mycroft bloody Holmes making sure their rent was covered or not. Cases, cases to work and a whole world out there that was just. Incomprehensible on a good day. It was little wonder that he sat in his chair with his hands curled around his tea-cup, just taking a moment to focus on breathing.

What he half wanted to do was get laid, but recently that had been a bit of an issue. There was Seb which had been..well fucking fantastic. And he was attracted to Sherlock but there was that problem he had with PTSD and tentacles and it was just unfortunate that Sherlocks Old one genetics manifested as tentacles rather than Seb's tiger stripes and fur. 

Still, he was pretty sure he'd noticed Sherlock watching him with an element of hunger. He was pretty sure he wouldn't do anything.

It was just a tension, palpable, and if he wasn't going to the bloody temples then he was probably going to have to eventually contend with Sherlock hungry and out of sorts. Which he supposed was much more challenging than just Sherlock as standard. John took another sip of his tea, listening to the door downstairs swing open.

Sherlock probably. Maybe he'd got something for dinner, otherwise it was going to be something thrown together from the edible things in the fridge. Or they could get chinese… chinese sounded good. Sherlock hadn't remembered to eat since he'd been here.

It was as if Sherlock didn't require food. Real food, regular food, and it was hard to guess if he did or not, though John had seen him eat frightening amounts when it was set in front of him. Just.... It was always a struggle to get Sherlock grounded enough to try the mundane.

"John."

"Hey," John said looking up. "Wondered where you were. Mycroft summoned you again?" He ate his biscuit, considering his need for food. "Unless you brought home dinner I was thinking Chinese tonight."

Sherlock looked in good spirits, taking his hat and his scarf off, shutting the door behind him. He was carrying a brown paper back with a warmish spot on the bottom that told John food. "I brought up sandwiches and Albion. I hope that suffices." Albion. There wasn't really Albion cuisine, and it was a weird way for Sherlock to phrase it. "You seldom disappoint me, John."

"I should hope not." John frowned a little. "This is the first time you've remembered food since I moved in without me giving it to you. And...there's a lot of it. Expecting someone?"

"I've invited a friend of yours over. It's the full moon, after all, but he's far too polite to call and ask you." Sherlock set the bag of food on the coffee table, expression intent as he watched John.

"A friend..." It took a moment for the idea to percolate. "You've invited Seb over?" He nearly dropped his cup of tea. "But it's full moon. Doesn’t that mean you'll be...and he'll be…”

And he was the only thing in between the two.

There was a tremble in his fingers, and he wasn't sure what to do with it, how to contain it. "Unfortunately my preferred proxy is out of town on 'holiday'." Sherlock actually made the quotation marks with his fingers as he said the word holiday, as if the disdain in his voice wasn't enough.

"So what is it that you've cooked up Sherlock?" he asked suspiciously. Sod it, he was going to have a sandwich regardless.

"A sandwich of sorts." Sherlock tilted his head, and John tried to not feel unsettled. Fuck it, he wasn't going to *be* unsettled by Sherlock. "Which would make your furry friend the meat."

“...I see," John said slowly. In a strange way Sherlock was attempting to honor his promise not to assault him for the sake of his own need, while mixing it with the completely inappropriate step of serving him up as a meal to another hungry old blood.

"Do you?" Sherlock asked it carefully, as if he were a schoolteacher expecting John to provide a reinterpretation that might further enlighten him. Well, fuck that.

"Is there something about me that makes you think I need someone to organize sex for me?" John asked.

"It appeared to be a convenient way to kill two birds with one metaphorical stone. Also, I told Moran your phone was dead, so you might want to pocket that or slip it in a drawer..." Sherlock gestured to the phone on the side table.

"And he is fine with a threesome?" John asked an edge in his voice. "Did it occur to you I might not be?"

"Are you?" There was a pretty good chance that Moran wasn't fine with it, either, but he might roll with it for John's sake.

"I don't know!" John replied. "I..." He hesitated, "I would have liked more than a few minutes to think about the idea. And someone asking me about it before organizing it at least."

"Well, he's on his way. I'm sure if you explain it to Moran politely he'll turn tail and go, and I'll..." Sherlock waved a hand a little, and honestly, he was a shit, because he was watching John with a calculating eye.

"You bastard.." He said it, but with no real heat. He'd just been thinking about Seb and really, there was nothing to think about there, it was just the addition of Sherlock to the mix that was a potential problem. "What are you getting out of it?"

"Feeding via proxy. And Moran's a horny enough bastard to not care much about the impact to himself." Sherlock continued to stand close by, pulling his gloves off with considered care.

"You really need it," John said almost curiously watching him as intently as he watched John.

"Unfortunately. I'm not a regular feeder, unlike some." And just from the tone, John could pick out the disdain for those who were, the distaste of it.

"Hmm. " He exhaled. Well it would be a way of testing his fear and his equilibrium and he definitely wouldn't say no to Seb. That had been incredibly intense. "Fine then. Ask me next time."

"I will, absolutely. If... I have another miscalculation." It made John wonder who Sherlock's usual was, if that was real feeding and temple shit wasn't.

"What time is Seb due?" he asked unpacking the food Sherlock brought back. Maybe he ought to tidy up or something.

"Soon. I suspect he was packing bodies onto the trunk of his car or something." Sherlock waved a hand dismissively, and looked sideways at John as he sat down.

"Seems a bit excessive," John answered taking a big bite from his sandwich. "It's good. Have something Sherlock."

His nose wrinkled. "I might later."

John shrugged a little, getting most of the way through his sandwich before he heard someone coming up the stairs. “Seb, I guess,” he said with a mouthful.

There was a polite, composed knock on the door, as if he hadn't been informed to show up for a booty call at a predetermined time by John's roommate. John quirked a smile in amusement at the thought. It was faintly ludicrous. "Come in Seb," he called out.

The man stepped in, glamor or concealing spell or whatever it was firmly in place, and his expression immediately resolved into a sort of relief. "You're really here. I was afraid I was being set up and it was going to be... I don't know. Government agents wall to wall.”

"Just me and Sherlock, who as you know is… a law unto himself," he replied. "Sherlock brought food. It's a minor miracle.”

"Did he?" Sebastian closed the door behind himself, looking over his shoulder for a moment. "Well. It's probably for the best, it's a stay inside sort of night, given the way the sky's moving.”

"Really? Sounds like there will be some of the wild out there," John replied. "I'm just amazed you still came even suspecting the trap. Sherlock must have been persuasive."

"Well, more like he was making up a great big bloody story, but I was interested." He inclined his head slightly, smiling at John in a firm way. "So, is what he said true?"

"Well that would depend on what he said," John said a little cautiously. Who the hell knew what Sherlock had said. "Give me the highlights."

"That you were looking to have a threesome." He almost phrased it as a question, eyeing Sherlock for the first time since he'd arrived.

"I need to feed, you need to feed, this is a workable solution."

"I have to admit, I did not suggest it, but...I'm up for it," John said looking directly at Seb. "And I definitely wouldn't want you to go without on a full moon."

Not that he thought Seb would starve. Chaat knew, he was a good looking man, and he wouldn't have trouble finding someone. But there was a difference between finding someone, just anyone, and having someone... companion-ly. "Well, if you enjoyed it, that'd be a plus point," Seb joked.

"Of course I'd enjoy it..it's you," John said automatically. "Going on what happened before at least." He smiled at Seb and looked over at Sherlock. "I've got a couple of hang ups but I like to test my fears every now and then."

And it was a safe way to test his fears, in a way. He was comfortable with Sebastian, and he knew Sherlock as a person. No harm in seeing how far things could do, particularly if Seb were in the middle. “So… How does the moon thing work for you guys?" he asked shifting the subject hastily away from himself.

"It's the alignment of our guiding celestial body with our seat of power. The draw of the two creates a cavernous hunger, and a link to the other world. Or, as I'm sure Moran has experienced, his dick gets extra hard and everything looks like a snack." 

"Feck off. I'm not sure what Jim sees in you." Seb ran a hand back through his hair, looking sheepish. "All this bullshit talk about otherworldly hungers, yeah."

"So, you kinda have to feed?" John asked. "There's a lot of that around. That place we went, it got a bit... intense."

"That was a full blooded Royal. Their feeding requirements are..." Sherlock grimaced a little. "Cavernous."

"So two old bloods… How does that work out on the hunger stakes?" he asked curiously.

"Sebastian would be a conduit from you to me. He'd feed from you and I'd feed from him." And everyone would be wrung out and tired except Sherlock, it sounded like.

"Seems a bit like you might drain him, Sherlock," he stated looking at Seb. "I don't want that to happen."

"I won't drain him." It was a petulant sort of answer, and Sebastian shrugged his shoulders, taking his coat off and seeming to settle in to their flat. 

"Is there tea?"

"In this house? There is always tea," John answered, getting up to put the kettle on again. "We even have alcohol if you fancy something." Sherlock would have tea, though, so he decided to make a decent pot.

"I was going to offer to help." Sebastian started to fold up his shirt-sleeves, and it was an attractive look to him as he shadowed after John to the kitchen. It broke up the tension a little.

John grinned at him. "And here I was thinking there was going to be a quiet evening," he joked. "You're looking good."

"Thanks. You're looking pretty good yourself." He took a deep breath, that scenting thing he did, and seemed very content as he ran tap water cold to fill the electric kettle for John.

"Do I smell good or something?" he asked a little flippantly. He'd studied old blood medicine but it tended to miss out the practicalities of the experience.

"Mmm, like you always do." Seb had said he smelled like fresh bread, that he smelled *good*, and it seemed to leave the other man looking very contented rather than out of control ravenous.

He liked that mellow look on his face, was attracted to his long lean muscular look. "Good. I'm just interested in whether I'm like other people or different.”

"Oh, you're... different. You're like..." Sebastian wiped the bottom of the kettle, and set it on the countertop. "I've had one partner before who didn't leave a weird taste in my mouth, metaphorically."

"Huh, I wonder if that is just your reaction or if I am like that to others," John said. He took the now boiled kettle and made the tea. "Sherlock, you having one?""

"Yes." Sherlock was still in the living room watching them, giving John space, he supposed. Seb was making no space giving moves, helping by getting mugs down.

"Hard to tell. We tend to not compare notes among each-other. The foul tasting ones are generally... Universally shunned?"

"Pretty interesting," John commented. "You don't have to conceal everything if you don't want to. I like your manifestation. Sherlock's I have have a few issues with."

"It's a habit. No one in the army particularly wants us shambling around." Except Seb was a graceful creature, and mostly human looking even after he let the spell fold back, fall away. His shirt sleeves were still rolled back, but now John could see the fur that started at his hairline, his sideburns, the funny bent positioning of his legs, still encased in sleek suit pants.

"Don't know what they are missing," John replied as he took the pot over, grabbing some milk. "Tea."

"Fur in their tea," Sherlock smirked, looking up at John. "Thank you. I'll keep mine on for a while longer." He poured the tea and gave it around to Seb and Sherlock and topped up his own. Now Seb was here, he was getting into the idea a little more with a bit of anticipation.

He'd seen Sherlock naked, and the unreal, unearthly part of it was so very tangible with him, where as Sebastian was earthy, familiar, grounding, and he might just make it possible to deal with Sherlock like that. "'S good tea."

"Thanks, I spent all of one minute preparing it," John joked, sitting down next to Seb, as close as possible. "And there I was thinking it was going to be a night in front of the TV… If the atmospherics allowed it."

"Nah, it's a wild one out there." John had seen big wide full moons, and he'd wondered. He'd seen things swooping down from the skies, and remembered his parents cautioning him that it was always better to stay in and watch the telly. It was simply like that. It mostly reminded him to pull the shutters, but Sherlock seemed ahead of him.

"Well sex is always good as evening entertainment," John replied. Sherlock was focusing on watching them and he looked directly at him raising his eyebrows.

Sherlock smirked a little as he closed and locked the shutters from the inside. "We could adjourn to your bedroom, John. Or, If you prefer, we could try here..."

"Well there's probably enough room on my bed," he said with a smile.

He felt like he was relaxing, a little, like he could do it without freaking out. Sebastian sipped at his tea, and shifted a hand to rub at John's knee. "If it gets weird, just say."

"Nothing possibly weird about it," John said wryly. "Threesome with two shape shifters...no problem." He smiled a little. "Bedroom it is."

Seb leaned over to kiss his neck, still holding onto his tea mug. "You *are* amazing, John. And surprising." 

"Tell that to Sherlock," John quipped. "He seems to think I'm an open book." He liked the kiss, liked the feel of soft fur. He got up determined not to wait, now that he had made his decision. They wanted to feed? He had enough pride to want to make it the best they'd ever had.

He was going to give them the best feeding they'd ever had, on a dark full moon night.Bringing the wilds into his home, into his bed, was the best way to control it, wasn't it?  
"To the same degree everyone is." Sherlock commented from behind them

"Which means yes." John said wandering towards his room. At least he had a habit of keeping it tidy in his room. "Last one in is... the last one in."

Sebastian followed, and Sherlock was keeping a distance from them, trailing as if he were going to scare John off. Sebastian was taking his shirt off, though. By the old ones, the man was sex on the fucking prowl like that. He couldn't be angry with Sherlock, seeing this in front of him and knowing what Seb could do. Time for his own clothes to come off.

He didn't waste any time, because that was one good side effect - there was something about them that had made him able to perform even when he was exhausted.

"Joining us Sherlock?" John asked as he practically bounced on the bed.

He was excited, interested, and it was almost a feeling that was in the air as Sebastian knelt down on the bed and leaned in to kiss John's shoulder. "In due time." He started with his shirt, watching them. Watching and watching.

"Mmm, spoil sport." Seb desired his attention and he was happy to give it. He kissed Seb back, nibbling on his lip a little, exploring him. 

Soft fur between his fingers, and warm muscle under his hands, tight cords of it as he shifted against John, unbuttoning John's jumper with sturdy long fingers. He really liked that, really liked the way he could feel muscles move as Seb shifted position. He entertained himself carding his fingers through hair and fur down the base of his neck. He heard, felt a sort of dual toned rumble, felt Sebastian grin against his shoulder before he kissed his way down to John's nipples once he got his shirt open. "Gorgeous..."

"Was going to say the same thing," he replied. "I'm feeling pretty tasty tonight." It was a half joke, but he was starting to feel something kick in.

A pull, maybe. It was hard to tell, but Sebastian was distracting as he pinched john's left nipple, focused on John so entirely that he almost didn't notice Sherlock as he leaned into view. It was probably because he was hooking a leg over him and then deliberately exerting a little pressure with his teeth on his shoulder. "Yeah..." John encouraged. "That's good.”

"Hmn, one day I want to put ribbons around these." Sebastian tweaked the other one, and then leaned in to suck slowly. 

"Ribbons?" John asked. "That's a bit random."

"They're very pretty," Seb half teased, looking up and grinning at him before he tweaked one again.

“Mmm… that feels good." He groaned and he felt something sweep over them both. "Ribbon me up whenever you feel like it." He looked over at Sherlock grinning.

And then he realized he could see Sherlock's tentacles, handing loosely at his sides now that he'd taken his shirt off, bare skin glowing slightly. He had a momentary period of disorientation but Seb was there, practically purring at him and he was safe and somehow protected. He beckoned Sherlock in closer, curious now.

Curious how it could work when his fears were being soothed down, and it was hard to guess if that was a natural reaction or something Sebastian emitted, a calming. It would have been excellent in the forces, and fuck, fuck, he was licking the dip between his collarbones.

He couldn't help the tendency to arch a little at that and moan. Okay he wanted more and he could feel their hunger now as if it was something writhing and solid he could lay hands on and tug towards him.

It was contagious, and possible that he could lay hands on it. He'd felt it before, and Sebastian was responding to him, fluidly sucking harder, biting gently against his skin, hands sliding down. "Are you hungry?" he murmured to them both. There was something in him that recognized he was paradoxically more powerful at the point he should be most vulnerable.

It made him turn his attention to them and they felt all over his body. There was something...held back about them, and John prodded idly at that feeling to see if he could lure the tentacles to do more interesting things with tidbits of the energy he craved. It was like baiting a kitten with dangling bits of string, ironically, considering he had the tiger-ish Seb sprawled all over him, trying to scent mark him all over.

Rubbing against him, luxuriating against him, soft easy contrast to the slide of Sherlock's tentacles that suddenly felt invasive, touching more firmly after those mental images John plotted of energy. He eased it back a little but it was heartening he could do that. "Are both of you going to fuck me?" he murmured. "Because I could probably deal."

"Do you want that? Do you *really* want that?" Sherlock was pressing in closer, and he was the one in the middle of a sandwich of sensation just then, Sebastian beneath him and Sherlock behind him.

“Yeah… fuck, I could. You can do it," he said and the overload of sensation was definitely good.

It was lovely, like sprawling naked on a fur rug, and soft flesh like protrusions were sliding over his skin carefully, occasionally touching over Seb's hands on his ass. "Oh, we'll be so careful..."

"You don't have to be… completely careful," he murmured. ”Mmm, more."

"Hmn, who is feeding on whom?" Sherlock kissed the back of his neck, and he felt the almost simultaneous touch of hands against his asscheeks, or maybe not hands. One was Seb's he could tell and the other…

"Lets call it all mutual," John said. He'd vowed never to be a sacrifice again and he wasn't. He wouldn't be. He had come out of that experience somehow tempered and inexplicably free and apparently irresistible to those of the old blood. He imagined letting that power release itself, spreading over them all.

There was nothing sacrificial about this, as Sebastian nuzzled at his neck from the front and slowly curled a finger against the edge of is asshole. "Mmmm, lube?"

"You're infinitely uncreative, Moran," Sherlock chided.

"I'd like some lubrication," John replied. "Drawer if you need it."

"We can do so much better," Sherlock tsked, sliding something that left a trail of watery slick against his skin.

"Ah, is that... Is that you?" John felt he had to ask. At least it was warm to the skin. Cold might have been a bit unsettling.

Warm, though, and almost glossy feeling. Sebastian smeared fingers through it and made a thoughtful noise as he leaned his head back against the mattress beneath them. "It's been known to be beneficial. It has mild anti-inflammatory properties." 

"We're all secrets," Sebastian murmured, rocking his hips up against John's, grinding up. 

John was distracted from the slick feeling to start with by the feel of Seb against him. But when it started wriggling down his crack he definitely noted that. Slick and squirming, a different feeling than the slow push of a finger, but he felt that as well, and Sebastian grinding against him as if it might distract from the fact that he was being slowly stretched with a tentacle.

It squirmed more than a finger in more directions and the sensations temporarily derailed him and made him clutch at Seb desperately.

It was almost overwhelming, too many different sensations and an unreal feeling inside of him as Sebastian made that pleased resonantly sound deep in his chest again, and kissed John. "Easy, easy..."

“That.. that feels very different," he said and kissed back. "Amazing..." So much more pleasure than the Royal in Afghanistan.

He felt the spreading stretch inside of himself, but no burn, the stroke of tentacles over his skin, and Sherlock's hands against his back, tracking over his vertebrae. Sebastian gasped beneath John, and Sherlock hummed the same thoughtful noise he made when he was deep in a case. "Apologies, Moran, they get, mmm, a little excited."

"You too huh?" John said looking at him. Seb had a distracted expression, slightly unfocused.

He huffed, and pressed his free hand up along John's slid to play with his chest again. "Uhm, but it feels good. Never done that before. You think you could... Both of us?"

"That would be very cool.." John said. "The both of us at the same time." In each others embrace, but both tangled and being fucked. The thought alone was hot.

The sensation that went with it was an ebbing pulse of motion, undulating and making his dick ache. Sherlock crowded in behind him, slender fingers shifting John's hips forward. "Yes. Just hold on to that feeling, John..." He felt the press when Seb rocked up again, the head of his dick pressing behind John's balls before Sherlock guided him back further, to press in beside squirming flesh.

“Oh, Chaat.." John groaned shuddering because Seb was big enough on his own, and now there were Sherlock's tentacles twisting and writhing around as well. 

That burned, a stretching ache that made his balls feel heavy, and his breath still for a moment because he wasn't sure it was going to fit, not at first, but then Seb slid in, all the way, one hand clutching hard at John's hips. "Umph. You okay?"

“Fuck, yeah..just stretching," he answered panting a little. "Sherlock's tentacles must engorge massively..." Why he was thinking of that when they were in him, he wasn't sure. He suspected Sherlock could only do it when he was feeding.

Seb arched a little, still struggling to hold still so John could adjust. "Only when feeding. It's wasteful to show them off the rest of the time..."

"They looked small before," John closed his eyes a little and moved with Seb. "I'm okay, I'm okay...go for it." Whatever energies they needed would surge during the process and, what the hell, who needed a text book in their head right now? It was different than losing himself entirely into the moment, blind in the lust of it, and Seb thrust then and the text book ebbed back, and that was when John realized what was going on.

Instinct took over but there was a lucid part of him drifting over the heady sensations. He knew what happened, the feeding on energies, on thoughts. Some preferring life, some preferring sex, some preferring other human emotions. They would stir what they desired in their target and he had seen enough to know a human could be a husk at the end of it. But that hadn't happened to him. Something had happened that allowed him to escape in Afghanistan that he couldn't remember, something he had never read in a medical journal. He had felt something with Seb, and then the incident in the club and… here it was, singing in his veins. He was tangled, and being fucked by the pair of them, but he had them. He could feel the energy singing in him, drawing them in.

Humanity it seemed had evolved a natural resistance or defense. He could destroy them like this, he knew it or he could… give them a feast the like they had never known. The choice was his. The call of the moon throbbed in their bones and blood and he opened up the sweet and intoxicating flood of his emotions given by choice.

Because he could, because neither of them asked for his fear or his awe, but for him, and that was something he could satisfy in an open bounty. He drove the pace, rather than being savaged by it, Sebastian fucking up into him, clutching and stroking and kissing his skin where he could find it, soft fur and warm skin holding John close as tentacles pressed and slide and overwhelmed them both, with Sherlock's blooming glow burning John's dimly lit bedroom into a soft rose of warmth.

It was an unearthly light but it cast them all in soft shadows, with Seb's fur gleaming like a tigers in a jungle twilight. There were tentacles sliding slick and almost hot around his cock, Seb's fur under his hands, and his expression one of torn bliss as he moved in him and Sherlock's tentacles thrust into him.

He let the flow of it wash over him, shivering through his body and out and into them, like tiny orgasms, leaving him breathless and eager for more if it were possible. "Oh, fuck. Fuck..."

It was nothing like anything he had experienced before and he could see them all moving from languid to an almost frenzy. He could hold them all here but... they would have heart attacks from the inevitable strain as humans sometimes did when fed on by a Royal. Instead he let the reins slip so the climax would rise and rise..

Tentacles and fur, wonderful growling noises from Seb and that inexorable thrusting. The tug of sharp pain on his nipples, the slide of tentacles hot and slick on his cock so tight. He needed to come, he was desperate to do so. Just, another thrust, and another, and Sherlock pressed harder, twisted and invaded in a way that made John gasp, milking the head of his cock and fondling his balls until he came in a spatter, and Sebastian was nearly roaring as he thrust wildly.

The snap of wings was still startling as hell, even with the three of them twisted together.

It was strange to climax at the same point that one of his lovers suddenly manifested wings. Seb with fur striped wings patterned like flames with his head thrown back and the feel of heat and lightning all through him as he came and Sherlock's glow become so intense it was difficult to tell if the lights exploding behind his eyes were reflections of something literal.

He hoped the flat didn't burn down, because he was sort of fond of it, and arousal washed over panic as he tried to catch his breath, and Seb flung an arm over his shoulder, holding him close and panting, half-sitting up as he held on to John, with Sherlock kneeling behind them both, his tentacles still clinging.

"Astounding."

John found himself almost giggling drunkenly. "Since when do you have wings Seb?" he asked as his vision returned and he let the tension go from his muscles.

"Since he's finally started to move out of adolescence, apparently," Sherlock smirked, kissing the back of John's neck, while Seb groaned. "Welcome to puberty, Moran. Balls finally dropped?"

"Asshole." The wings stretched and moved awkwardly for a moment, but Seb seemed content to hold onto John and luxuriate in the aftermath.

"Definitely a better evening than watching TV," John said. He liked luxuriating himself, and Sherlock was more comfortable than he thought, considering he was lean and bony.

Sebastian sighed beneath him, sliding fingers into John's hair. "Always a better evening than watching TV."

"I think I've decided I'm fine with your tentacles Sherlock," John announced after a moment, as he yawned a little. He probably had burnt out a lot of calories with whatever the hell he was doing.

"Under the appropriate circumstances." Sherlock curled fingers against John's hip from behind, and slowly started to disentangle himself from them both. The drag of his tentacles leaving made John's dick ache, sore but maybe considering another round.

"Mmm, well give me a couple of hours, and possibly a few more chocolate biscuits, I'll be up for more," John said with a smile. "If you get a little peckish."

"If I can get my legs under me, I can throw something together in the kitchen." Or just bring the rest of the sandwiches in. Which sounded like a more realistic request. Sebastian's wings were still moving awkwardly, folding against his back, shining orange and almost blue instead of black.

"Not just yet," John said. "You're too comfortable. I wonder if you will be able to fly with those sometimes."

"Might. I hope the horns never grow in." He pulled a face, and wrapped one wing awkwardly around both John and Sherlock, who was still half kneeling.

"I'm definitely going to have to look up your lineage," John said as he tried to pull Sherlock into relaxing with them. "And yours Sherlock. I definitely think we will be doing a little more exploration."

"Oh, there's so many other types of exploration I'd rather do." The idle touch of fingers on his spine, well. Yes, maybe in another couple of hours they could do that, as well.

John lay back and settled down. He might be the only pure human in a nest of old bloods, but it was definitely no sacrifice, and he wouldn't be a sacrifice ever again, not even if one of the Royals came slithering his way. Only human but able to tame the wildest of blood, which wasn't bad for a man most had written off as too damaged to be any use to their society. Between his two scions of demi-gods, John looked out at the wild moon and smiled.


End file.
